


Kiss for the winner

by Astre



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astre/pseuds/Astre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1864. Damon gets wounded and the Confederacy sends him home and into Katherine's arms.</p><p>WARNING: There's blood, hence mature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss for the winner

**Author's Note:**

> Genre: TVD typical vampire drama in the so-called “deleted scenes” style
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, no commercial gain intended, pleasure only

Katherine comes to his bedroom on the night of his arrival. It's been a while since his stay here on his leave. He's in bed, but he's not asleep. Must be thinking about the dinner, she reckons. Stefan's attitude to her hasn't pass unnoticed. 

He winces as she straddles him. And it's not in disgust like in Stefan's case. It's pain. Yes, he's been wounded, she reminds herself. Must be serious, as they discharged him from the Army. Not that she cares, but she's a bit curious.

“Show me,” she says, putting her palm on his white shirt above the wound. “I want to see it.”

“It's not...,” he pauses, searching for the words, “very appetizing.”

He blushes. So sweet of him. He didn't _mean_ it, obviously. Except that in all likelihood, he did. And the irony is not lost on her. And she purses her lips into a small smile. Then takes his shirt by the hem and pulls it up. And there is that injury. It's hideous, she thinks. Long and uneven. Starts on the side of the ribcage and goes down to the hip bone. It's badly stitched and raw. Most probably abscessed, she can tell. 

“It's ugly,” she comments mercilessly. 

He closes his eyes for a second. Considers the possible ways of parrying. He's not as quick as usual, though. 

“War's ugly,” he says finally, his voice cracking a little.

That flush on his cheeks is not only due to arousal or feelings, it's fever. The blood will taste bad, she frowns. It'll have a smack of disease and, perhaps, even decay.

She tilts her head to one side. She shouldn't have come to his room tonight, she thinks. It should have been Stefan's. Yet, she feels a bit tired of Stefan. The constant repulsion in his eyes. Yes, Stefan would fight every time. Would try to resist. Would call her names. And yet, he would succumb. Well... not always. Now and then she would have to look into those eyes full of aversion and tell him that it's just fine to love a vampire. Sometimes she would compel him only afterwards. For the fun of it. For the struggle. For her to win as always. 

And it seems, Damon's not going be any fun tonight. He can barely move without wincing. 

“I can help you with the wound,” she says. “But it'll hurt. A lot. And if you scream and people rush in and see us like this, in your bed...” She doesn't finish her speculation. She smiles at him and she's all a tease to the point of being mocking. He lifts his right arm and trails his index finger down her cheekbone.

“I won't scream,” he says. “I promise.”

She snorts bitterly. _Everybody screams_ , she doesn't tell him, but it's pretty obvious.

Of course, she can compel him, but the whole deal is not about fixing her plaything, it's more of a trial, really. For she can't imagine him in a battle. Can't imagine him putting up a real fight. Can't imagine him being strong. Only a sweet handsome boy at her feet, professing his love. Believing in love in his 25. In her own 350 years of immortal life she's seen her share of fragile boys. None of them really worth her attention, let alone saving. 

So, it's more of a test. She can do nothing about a scar, but she can do everything about a wound. 

“I'll give you my blood,” she informs him. “But only after I rip the stitch open.”

He nods. 

She thinks that he doesn't get it, perhaps. Or is feverish. So, well, he'll get it soon enough, she tells herself and tugs at the first stitch. 

She's very ready to silence his yelp, but it doesn't come. He bits his lip, and he closes his eyes tight and he inhales in sharp gasps, but the serenity of the night remains undisturbed. She pouts and watches him with exploratory interest. When he opens his eyes she continues the procedure.

It's not about pain for her. Not about torture. It's about seeing him fight. She was wrong: he got it right away. It's a test and he's willing to pass. And she can't help admiring this sweet little boy of hers struggling to be a man. His lip is already too sore so now he's biting the back of his palm and from being pale he's gone totally greyish. And his heart's beating at a tempting speed; she hears the blood racing in his veins. Hell, she likes him like this. Especially, the tears streaming down from his closed eyes, as he stifles a moan.

Stefan would have done it too, she thinks. Would have endured the pain. But this one is doing it for _her_ , only because _she_ wants him to suffer, wants him to prove that he's worth it. Worth her love and worth saving. 

So she smiles soothingly and touches his cheek, softly and caressingly. He must know that she can be mean, but she can be also nice, very nice if it pleases her to. If he pleases her. 

With an effort he focuses on her face. The stitches are ripped off and the wound needs to be opened. They both know it. As well as they both know that when it disrupts and the skin gapes open it won't be a test anymore, it'll be beyond that.

He licks his lips and she looks into his eyes, so blue and so full of pain and devotion, such a mixture that she just... 

She bends down and with the tip of her tongue she licks a wet teasing line up his neck and along his cheekbone. It's slow and promising. 

“My warrior,” she whispers against his cheek, a tinge of passion in her voice.

“Funny,” he croaks, “Father's convinced I'm a deserter.”

And then she knows why she likes her Damon. He reminds her of herself sometimes. He always survives. It's a good quality in the one you don't want immediately dead. And by now she believes she doesn't want him dead yet, no, for what she has in mind, she wants him very much alive. 

She should compel him, she thinks, but she can't deny herself the pleasure. Her lips brush his and her hands pull at his flesh – the edges of the wound come apart with a pop. Here he screams and she catches his cry with her mouth and savors it. _Almost as good as sex_ , she admits. 

Then she takes him by the chin and turns his head to face her. Locks his gaze. It's difficult for he's practically unconscious. “The pain's tolerable,” she says casually, and this time it's compulsion.

She lets the blood flow out for a while and it's her time to wince for she was right, it's inflamed. Then she bites through the skin of her wrist and presses it against his lips. He can't actually drink, just gulp down at the most. She pulls her wrist away and gets off him and out of bed.

“Rest,” she orders. The compulsion is working miracles and he even succeeds in breathing evenly. With the pain _tolerable_ , he gets his reflections back. It's written all over his face. He yearns for her to stay. Despite everything he still has his head in the clouds. Needs his prize, maybe. Well, it's high time he learnt there's no kiss for the winner. And he's not the winner, after all. She is. 

“Katherine...” he trails off. And she turns to him. Expects him to beg her not to leave, or to tell her about his love, she wants him to show that weakness of his, the misery of the sweet romanticism he lives in. 

“Give Stefan my best regards,” he manages finally.

She smiles falsely, exposing her teeth. He's jealous, which is fine. But he has his claims on her, which is not. 

“I will,” she says, her voice unreadable, “see you in the morning.”


End file.
